Supernatural

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Demian: A | 4 USERS: A
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The Hardy Boys Are So Screwed

ANY-way, where was I? Oh, yes. Dean processes this newest bit of information and offers his thanks to "Frannie," noting she's given him all he needs at the moment. "Really?" she perks, not at all eager to see him leave. "I mean, 'cause I've got more," if you know what she means, and I think you do, "if you want to interview me sometime...in private?" Dean considers her proposition for all of a microsecond before asking Frannie to write down her number. Heh.

Meanwhile, Sam confirms that the manager himself never saw the footage from the store's security cameras. "The police took all of the tapes first thing," the manager nods. "Of course they did," the just-arriving Dean smirks disdainfully. Our Intrepid Heroes nod at each other before we...

...jump ahead a bit in time to watch as the rain-streaked Impala grumbles up in front of a nondescript bungalow elsewhere in the city. "Friggin' cops!" Dean bitches as they disembark. "They're just doing their job," Sam primly replies. "No," Dean counters, "they're doing our job, only they don't know it, so they suck at it!" He drops the outrage for a bit so Sam might exposit about another recent robbery, this at The Milwaukee National Trust, which was hit about a month ago with an M.O. identical to the jewelry store heist: "Inside job, long-time employee -- the 'never in a million years' type -- who robs the bank, then goes home and supposedly commits suicide." The gentleman they've arrived to question is one "Ronald Reznick," a security guard at the bank who was beaten unconscious by the teller who robbed the place. The boys climb the front steps to the porch, where Sam raps sharply against the glass on the storm door. Almost immediately, a harsh overhead security light snaps on, nearly blinding them as the extremely tubby Mr. Reznick warily makes his way through the bungalow's front hall to peer out at them. The boys, still squinting in the glare, attempt to smile as Sam opens with, "FBI, Mr. Reznick." "Lemme see the badge," the fat man demands, so Our Intrepid Heroes dig around in their coat pockets for a bit before slapping their false identification against the door -- in unison, with their left hands, and there's a joke somewhere in that gesture involving Sam and Dean doing a Supremes cover in a karaoke bar. Fat Ronald intently examines the IDs for a moment before protesting, "Han Solo and Jack Ryan? Pull the other one, you idiots. Now get off my property before I call the damn cops!" Okay no, he doesn't say that, even though he should, because those are the names on Our Intrepid Heroes' fake badges, but we'll give Fat Ronald here the benefit of the doubt and assume he's farsighted and isn't wearing his contacts. "I already gave my statement to the police!" is what Fat Ronald actually blurts, so Dean must assure the fat fellow that he and his colleague seek "clarification" on certain elements of the fat man's story. "You come to listen to what I gotta say?" Fat Ronald demands. "That's why we're here," Dean nods. Fat Ronald stares them down for a moment before allowing them indoors.

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Supernatural

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